


The River

by guineapiggie



Series: written for the Jyn Appreciation Squad [6]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Music, References to Depression, well there are unresolved issues here is what i'm saying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14413077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: On Lah’mu, some distance from their homestead, there was a river running through a gorge between the hills. The air in the canyon was misty despite the clear day and strange trees grew on the river banks, with twisted trunks and craggy, black bark, swallowing the sunlight and casting the space by the water into semi-darkness. The water looked odd, too; there were dark swirls like liquid smoke that drew intricate patterns onto the muddy river bed. But the thing she remembered most vividly afterwards was the smell that hung in the air, sweet like dying flowers.





	The River

 

> _When I was a child, I grew up by the river Lea,  
>  there was something in the water and now that something's in me_
> 
> _\- River Lea_ by Adele

 

On Lah’mu, some distance from their homestead, there was a river running through a gorge between the hills. The air in the canyon was misty despite the clear day and strange trees grew on the river banks, with twisted trunks and craggy, black bark, swallowing the sunlight and casting the space by the water into semi-darkness. The water looked odd, too; there were dark swirls like liquid smoke that drew intricate patterns onto the muddy river bed. But the thing she remembered most vividly afterwards was the smell that hung in the air, sweet like dying flowers.

Jyn found it when she was six, chasing after a small animal she had seen in the fields. It disappeared just as she caught a glimpse of the river, but she forgot about it immediately, drawn in by the hypnotic swirls of mist above the water. In the luscious landscape of Lah’mu that was so rich with colour, it was unnerving to see a place so devoid of it. She felt drawn to it despite that, or maybe because of it, even though the smell and the strange and sudden quiet lay heavy on her chest. It felt like a forbidden place, where something bad had happened, but that just made it more curious to her.

She had climbed down the flank of the hill to touch the surface of the water, when papa called after her, branches snapping noisily underneath his feet as he scrambled down to the water.

“What did we say about touching things we do not know?”

His voice was soft as ever, but as he drew closer and took in the view, there was a glint of something in his eyes, as though he recognised this place.

“What are you doing here, Jyn?”

“I saw an animal,” she answered absent-mindedly, stepping closer towards the river. “Why is the water looking so weird, papa?”

He drew closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes still fixed on the swirling dark water.

“I don’t know, stardust,” he said very quietly. “Probably a mineral in the ground. Maybe your mother will know.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Jyn inquired, filled with more morbid fascination than fear.

“Perhaps. I think we should leave, Jyn,” papa said quietly, his hand tightening on her shoulder. “Come on now.”

Papa forbade her to go back, even though mama said the water was probably not dangerous unless you drank it. But sometimes, when she hugged him goodnight after a long day, she found the smell of the river clinging to his clothes, and he had that same strange look in his eyes that he had when they’d been by the water, as though the steams rising from the surface had seeped into his head and taken a hold there.

* * *

  

Sometimes, she would dream of the river – no dramatic nightmares, no monsters, though. Just the deep, morbid melancholy and the sickly sweet smell, and the deafening silence.

And she was always, always alone.

But mostly, she remembered it when the feeling came on its own – she grew gloomy and apathetic when she was left to her thoughts for too long. It wasn’t much of a problem while she was with Saw; he and his men kept her busy, and busy was good, even if it meant throwing grenades. It got worse when she was on her own, when she hid away in dark corners for days on end, sadness creeping through her veins like the mist above the water, spreading further and further.

It was only then that she realised it wasn’t the view her father had recognised, back on the riverbank, but the feeling. That he’d felt like this, too, and that was why he’d gone back so many times. Felt the itch to just walk into the water, just float away –

It was in her blood, then. Maybe that was why the stream had called to her as it did. Then again, she had always wondered if the water they had drunk came from the same spring as the river, and if it did, what drinking it might have done to them. Eventually, she found it was easier to see it that way, that there’d been something in the water that made her this way, because then it might go away again, someday.

* * *

  

She hoped it would, but the memory haunted her, and after Scarif when she sat curled up on her bed in the middle of the night, listening to the others’ faint breathing, the sweet smell hung in her nose, and she almost mistook the bubbling of the bacta tank for the whispering of the river.

What if the others didn’t make it, and she’d never see them again? Or worse, what if they did, and they didn’t care to?

What if they saw her for what she was, now that it was over; what if they realised that she wasn’t what the rebels said she was, that she wasn’t strong, that she wasn’t… a _hero_?

When would someone tell her that she had served her purpose, outstayed her welcome –

She should leave, before that happened.

Gently, she swung her feet off the bed and felt for her gloves on the nightstand in the dark, the smell growing stronger in her nose. She tried to ignore it. Her left hand found the crystal around her neck ( _still there)_ , then her fingers closed around the gloves and she slowly got to her feet, a small hiss of pain escaping her despite her best effort.

“Jyn?”

She pressed her eyes shut. _Kriff._ She hadn’t even noticed that he’d woken up.

The sheets ruffled as he tried awkwardly to push himself up onto his elbows, teeth gritted in pain.

“Don’t –“ she whispered, making a few involuntary steps towards him. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

His dark eyes locked with hers. “You’re leaving.”

She wanted to say it was none of his business, wanted to lie and tell him to go back to sleep, wanted –

She didn’t find an answer, so she said nothing.

His eyes flickered over her face, searching. “We need people like you, Jyn.”

She scoffed. “I’m not the kind of person you need. There’s something wrong with me.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head, cut him off. “You’ll find out. I’m not… whatever you’re seeing, when you look at me like that, I’m not that person, and I’ll disappoint you.”

“I think I see you just fine,” he said quietly.

“We hardly know each other,” she replied, which was true, but felt like a cold, awful thing to say, and she could see something flicker across his features as soon as it was out, and something in her faltered.

“I didn’t –“

He shook his head, just slightly, and she fell silent.

“You heard them earlier,” he said after a while. “About your father.”

“They were right.”

“Jyn, that’s not –“

“There was something _wrong_ with my father, and I have it too, and he was strong enough to fight it and he didn’t give up but what if I do?” The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. She took a deep breath and resumed, a little calmer: “I’m a liability. You don’t need me.”

“There’s something wrong with all of us, Jyn,” he said softly.

“I –“

“Stay,” he said abruptly. “Please.”

“I –“

“Just – just for a while.”

She tried to make out his face in the darkness, but couldn’t see it clearly. “Why?”

“Because you’re wrong. You’re stronger than your father. And I –“ His voice caught, in pain perhaps. “I don’t know if I’d give up,” he added, very quietly. “If you left.”

She hesitated, and he saw it.

“Just… Don’t go now,” he said gently. “At least wait until you’re better. Get a little rest.”

She sighed, then nodded, and he smiled a little.

“Fine. Until we’re better,” she repeated softly and tapped back to her bed. She could wait a few more days, maybe even a few more weeks. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go.

 

(She didn’t dream of the river again. Not for a few nights, anyway.)

 


End file.
